


Aftereffects

by walkerofthestars



Series: The One That You're Lovin' Will Wish That He Never Met You [2]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Dick Grayson was Robin, Manipulation, Manipulative Slade Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28188123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkerofthestars/pseuds/walkerofthestars
Summary: Dick wakes up with very little memory of what happened to him, and Slade Wilson has every intention of taking advantage of that.
Series: The One That You're Lovin' Will Wish That He Never Met You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064972
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Aftereffects

Dick woke up in a bed. His bed? No, not his bed. He lurched up, eyes frantic as he whipped his head and looked around. his head felt like it was covered in something, stuffed with cotton. His vision swam and shook.

“woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” a voice said, someone grabbed hold of his shoulders and guided him back down to the bed.

Dick wasn’t taking in information other than ‘where am I? what happened? Where am I? When did I get here? Where am I? who am I?’

Dick felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t remember anything. He remembered a blur, a haze of pain. He remembered a mountain, he remembered a cave, he remembered a suit, red and black, he remembered a mansion, he remembered a circus.

He remembered a face. He remembered a kind face as words ran past lips, comforting, quiet, “you’ll be okay, I’ll save you, it’s okay, I know it hurts, I’ll fix it.” He remembered, between the flashes of pain and sobbing and pleading, a conversation, “If you take him he will die.” Dick sobbed, feeling the pain, still, feeling a blade in his eye, in his skull. Where was he? Before he could stop himself he was begging, whispered pleas flying past his lips.

“ssh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” the voice said, calm, comforting, slightly hitched with emotion, “you’re safe now.”

Dick wasn’t looking, he just leant into the touch, clinging onto the person who owned the voice.

“where am I?” he croaked out.

“safe,” the voice answered, “in my bunker.”

Dick frowned. No, there was something wrong with that. A bunker? His flashes of memory were slowly piecing back together but none of them included a bunker.

Dick flinched back, trying to get a look at the face. The person kept holding him, as if he hadn’t noticed.

“you’re alright, Dick, I saved you,” the voice said.

“bunker?”

“remember?” he said, “the bunker? The healing process should be finished, your memories might be blurry for a bit, but they should be back.”

Dick stared, leaning out of the hug. The man stared, worried, a crease between his eyebrows.

“are you okay?” he asked, his eye filled with genuine concern.

His eye.

“I’m fine,” Dick said, “fine, I just…”

Deathstroke rubbed his arm, comforting, “it’s okay, I saved you from them.”

“what… who…” Dick ran his hand through his hair, staring into space, “what happened?”

“you were kidnapped by The Light,” Deathstroke explained.

Dick frowned. The light…

He remembered the light. He remembered fighting them.

With Batman.

Dick’s eyes turned wide and he lurched out of Slade’s grip, “WHAT AM I DOING HERE?!”

“Dick, take a breath,” Deathstroke said, standing from the bed, holding his hands out in a placating gesture.

“no,” Dick shook his head, jumping of the bed and walking backwards from Deathstroke, straight into the wall, “no, no, no, no, no,” he whispered, “no, where am I? what happened?”

“I told you. You’re in the bunker,” Slade explained, sounding like someone who was approaching a wounded animal, “I saved you from the light. They hurt you.”

Dick remembered that. He remembered being hurt, he remembered pain. He remembered the heroes trying to take him, he remembered Deathstroke being there. he tried to remember more specifics, the face of the person who had hurt him, he couldn’t.

“no… no,” Dick shook his head, “no, I’m… I’m Robin,” Dick said, staring at Deathstroke, “where’s Batman?!”

“I don’t know,” Slade explained, “when I got to the Light’s base he wasn’t there, the heroes little covert team was,” he rushed into the explanation, “they weren’t winning and I heard them say something about the league not coming.”

Dick frowned. Why would Batman not come for him? “why did you save me?”

Deathstroke stared, perplexed, “why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m a hero, you’re a mercenary,” Dick hissed.

“I…” Deathstroke frowned, “don’t you remember?”

“what the hell would I remember?”

“before the light took you,’ Deathstroke said, “don’t you remember? We were working together?”

Dick opened his mouth to speak, to refuse, to say he would never work with Slade, “what?”

“the case, remember?” Deathstroke said, “I don’t know why you cared so much about it, but you wanted to do it without Batman and we ran into each other because I was payed to kill one of the suspects.”

“I…” Dick rubbed at his head, trying to remember, “yes…”

“look, just take a breath, sit down,” Deathstroke said, “it’ll all come back, okay? Just give yourself a moment.”

Dick’s hands were shaking, he felt like crying, deep down, something felt wrong.

“I don’t… understand,” Dick tugged at his hair, “I…”

Deathstroke walked over, slowly, and guided him back to the bed, “just give yourself some time to heal,” he said, “I’ll take you back to Batman once you’re fully healed.”

Dick nodded, “how can I trust you?”

“why would I want you to stick around?” he chuckled. But his humour dropped off when Dick continued to frown at him, “look, cross my heart,” he said, doing just that.

Dick nodded, knowing deep down that he couldn’t take the risk of completely trusting him.

“I’ll…” Deathstroke stood, “get you a glass of water.”

Deathstroke left, silently. Dick just sat on the bed, staring at the emptiness. His head still felt clogged with cotton. He ran his hand through his hair, this time taking notice of the bandage around his head. he frowned, trailing along the material, following it…

It was… over one of his eyes. Ho had he not noticed that? Well… he had been panicking.

He stood, noticing a mirror in the corner of the room. He walked over, feeling slightly sick. His head didn’t feel sore, just foggy, surely whatever was under it was healed by now.

Dick stood in front of the mirror, one side of his face covered with bandages. He found the fastening at the back of his head and unclipped it, the bandages uncurling. He closed his eyes as they fell to the floor, bracing himself, hoping his hunch wasn’t true. He opened them to look.

His eye. His right eye.

It was scarred. The eyelid still slightly split. He stared, open mouthed, at the torn and knitted together flesh. Too utterly destroyed to be healed over completely.

He didn’t want to see his eye beneath the lid, but he caught, through the slit, a tinge of blue, broken over the pupil. He swallowed down the feeling that was starting to creep up his throat.

And then he collapsed to his knees in front of the mirror, sobbing.

Deathstroke came back in with the glass of water he promised, which he quickly placed on the bedside table and forgot about. He joined Dick on the floor, letting him cling to him and sob into his chest.

Dick fell asleep to the sound of comforting words spilling past Deathstroke’s lips.


End file.
